


Fantasy in Metal

by BarefootBassist



Category: Final Fantasy XV, Metalocalypse
Genre: Crossover, Gen, I am also horrible at tags, I am horrible at endings, Look Ma I made a thing!, Some inappropriate language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 11:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11252079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarefootBassist/pseuds/BarefootBassist
Summary: So what would happen if the moogles in charge of reassignment couldn't get to work on time because the chocobos were on strike, and some very important souls ended up in an unusual place?Also, I do not own anything affiliated with with either Brendan Small, Adult Swim, or Square Enix (although I wish I had bought stock in the company many years ago!)





	Fantasy in Metal

The light had returned to Lucis – to all of Eos, for that matter. King Noctis and Lady Lunafreya, the Oracle, had passed over into the realm of much-deserved happily-ever-afterlife.

Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis, however….

Look, not even Astrals are perfect. Clerical errors happen. 

****

“What do you mean, they’ve been reincarnated into another universe?” thundered Bahamut at the little fennec fox. “For their service, they should have been transported to the same region as King Noctis and Lady Luna!” 

“I’m sure they’ll be fine; those guys always manage. Nothing to be too concerned about, but when their time is up here maybe, um, you can take a more _personal_ interest to see that they get to the right place? I was supervising the moogles in charge of reassignment, and with the chocobos on strike there were some issues getting everyone to the office. We are lucky that there aren’t **more** souls floating around in Limbo!” Carbuncle looked up at the Draconian Astral, gulped nervously and said, “But of course I will supervise their next reassignment myself.” 

“If they had been _born_ into their new roles it wouldn’t be so bad,” offered Shiva, “but they have been, well, _stuffed_ into pre-existing personas! This is a DISASTER!” 

“At least they will be worshipped as gods in that realm,” put in Ramuh. 

Titan sighed and poured himself another whiskey-and-soda. 

****

Charles Offdensen pushed up his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. He had been going over the band’s financial statements when he was hit with the idea for a new recipe. This was odd because he didn’t cook; Jean-Pierre was more than adequate to fulfill his nutritional needs. “I must be working too hard,” he thought; when he was interrupted by another thought, this one in a more refined tone of voice: “Nonsense! It is a duty and privilege to serve one’s liege! And furthermore… One moment, where am I?” 

****

Nathan Explosion was busy, working on the 67th of his hundred beers and putting the final touches on “Go Forth and Die”. Except… those weren’t the words he originally wrote, were they? 

_Trapped inside a crystal_  
_Ten long years_  
_Hiding from the world_  
_Forgotten by your peers_

“Huh,” he growled, “sounds more like the plot of a video game. Well, these beers aren’t gonna drink themselves. New song idea: Self-drinking beer.” 

****

Toki Wartooth was in his room, happily working on his model planes when a little voice in his head told him that he should see if there were any new pupper videos. Toki was okay with this, and hummed happily to himself as he flipped on YouTube. After about a half hour, the voice asked about video games, to which Toki replied, “We amsk gots a room full of video games! Is you my new friends in my heads, little voice? Is yous gots a names?” “Well,” the voice answered back, “I’m Prompto, but where am I and how did I get here?” “I don’tsk knows Promptos but let’s go play DDR! Yous is Toki’s friends now!” 

****

Pickles noticed that there seemed to be something a little off about his manager and bandmates. Nathan was doing a lot more reading than drinking; although he still churned out songs unnaturally fast, now they were more about crystals, lost kings, and something called “chocobos”. The latter made Toki ecstatic and he would go on for hours about them. This was puzzling as Toki was known to have had an austere and abusive childhood, and whatever these “chocobos” were, Pickles was sure they weren’t native to Norway. Skwisgaar, as self-centered as he was, had mentioned that to Pickles. Sweden was practically Norway anyway, but Pickles knew if he said that, the blond guitar-slinger would retreat to his room for a week to get over his sulk with the assistance of various GMILFs. Normally that wouldn’t bother Offdensen, as he didn’t have to worry about paying for abortions or child support (Skwisgaar was SO. MUCH. CHEAPER in that regard than the rest of the band), but Pickles had noticed that Offdensen was now more prone to lecture the band about personal responsibility, hygiene, and the need to be cost-efficient. Well, he WAS their CFO, but he hadn’t minded before… Were they in financial trouble? Even countries went belly-up from time to time, and Dethklok’s income when ranked beside the GNP of other countries was at a healthy and respectable 7, so maybe…?

Pickles decided then and there to visit Charles Foster Offdensen in his office. 

****

Murderface didn’t care. He drank another beer, belched, and scratched his belly over the “Pobody’s Nerfect” tattoo. That had been some night when he got that – too bad, he thought, that he didn’t remember it. 

****

“Yo, Robot!” exclaimed Pickles as he burst into Offdensen’s office. “I been meanin’ to talk to you about how you’ve been acting lately and-” He came to a sudden stop as he took in Toki and Nathan already seated across from their manager, heads close together conspiratorially. “What is this? I know something has been going on, but this better not be fucking with our bread and butter here.” 

“Ah, yes… Pickles…maybe it is time to explain,” came the odd cultured voice that had been emanating as of late from Offdensen. “From my observations, I believe you would have a better grasp of the situation than, say, Mr. Skwigelf or Mr. Murderface.” 

“Yes, that is true,” came the more typical Offdensen voice. “Pickles does have a greater intellect than he lets on, despite the mass quantity of chemical substances he indulges with.” 

Pickles was taken a bit aback and tried to recover as best he can. “This better not be some touchy-feely type of intervention, ya douchebags. Because that is so not metal.” 

**** 

“Ignis”, as the cultured voice called itself, launched into an epic tale of kingdoms lost, love lost, Hell even daylight lost; lots of attacks from every angle, deep and mysterious dungeons filled with monsters and demons beyond imagination, and eventual redemption at the price of a blood sacrifice. When it came to drug-induced imaginings, no one – hands down – could come close to Pickles, which is what finally made Pickles realize that he was being told the truth. It also accounted for, he thought, a greater element of story-telling in Nathan’s lyrics recently (although he could do without the gothic romance stuff – so not metal). 

The “Gladio” voice that resided in Nathan chimed in… well, more like “contra-bassooned” in - with “It’s not all bad; I think this could be fun for a bit. I’ve always liked writing poetry and I feel I am good at this songwriting. Not entirely sure what you and your resident blondie mean by “metal” but I’m sure I’ll pick it up. And women! And beer! _I don’t have to stay sober and celibate all the damn time to watch over everyone else’s dumb asses!”_

Toki’s resident “Prompto” piped up, “Yeah! It would be like _totally cool_ to be rock stars! I…” and here the sunshine voice faltered and whispered, “I just wish Noct was here with us.” 

The tone was so heartbreaking that even Pickles wanted to comfort Toki, much like Nathan and Offdensen were doing, even though he knew it was really the three specters within his friends that were engaged in a cuddlefest at the moment. 

After a while, Pickles grew visibly uncomfortable at the snuggly intimacy before him. He cleared his throat. “Um, hey… so…like… Is there anything we can do to get you back to where you belong?” 

Offdensen _qua_ Offdensen shook himself loose from the huddle and said “Well, if Ishnifus were still with us, he would probably be able to help. I am the new High Holy Priest, but not all avenues are open to me yet. Right now, though, the only person who could possibly assist is the one person we are absolutely unable to turn to for help. Nathan, Toki – I am referring to Mr. Salacia. “

“You means the big creepy fella?” asked Toki. “The ones who tried to haves us killed?” 

Nathan perked up. “Yeah, that guy is bad news. Probably at least as bad as if not worse than that Ardyn fellow you were telling us about.” 

Here is where Pickles felt he could shine. “I have a better idea – Nathan, remember that tribe you are related to in South America? Honey Mangoes or something like that?” 

“Yaneemango. Chief Otoe is my grandfather, but yeah, why – Oh. Yopo. That released our spirit animal forms, but – “ 

Here the “Ignis” voice jumped in. “What? That may be the answer. How can we best achieve this? I have noticed geography is vastly different than what we are used to, but I believe we can make it there from this Mordhaus of yours in a matter of 4 days, including stops for curatives and provisions. Prompto, Gladio, we must confer with our host bodies as it will be them bearing any physical discomfort caused by this experiment.” 

Nathan _qua_ Nathan softly growls “ _Close your eyes and become the animals that you once were…_ Yeah, I’m down for this. It was cool becoming an alligator. But we have to bring Murderface and Skwisgaar – you too, Pickles.” 

“Like I would turn down a chance to be an octopus again? I could play drums and guitar _at the same time._ ”

****

Ignis had no problems with traversing a rainforest. Neither did his fellow Crownsguard really; Prompto just liked to complain about his feet hurting and question if they were there yet with a whine in his voice. Quite the trouper, he was. But despite sharing hotel rooms and tents around Eos and being accustomed to the sight of each other’s bodies, at least while they had corporeal bodies, _nothing_ could have prepared Ignis for Murderface splayed out on deck completely nude. It was a small relief that rest of the band felt the same way, since the retching noises did nothing to deter the bass player from sprawling naked on a lounge chair while reverentially whispering “Ah, freeballing”. Ignis supposed he should be grateful the man refrained from urinating over the side of the boat, after it was relayed to him by Skwisgaar how a fish called a “Candiru” managed to lodge itself in Murderface’s urethra the last time they made this journey. While Ignis respected Skwisgaar’s talent, he had a limited tolerance for the man, as aspects of his personality were too similar to Loqi Tummelt for his taste. He felt that in Charles Foster Offdensen, he found a kindred spirit. They would often have silent conversations about the importance of lighting, and what separates the good lamps from the cheap lamps. 

Gladio-within-Nathan thought this was a fine adventure; very few critters were trying to kill him, and the resident large, spotted cats kept to themselves and didn’t throw lightning bolts with the wrath of Ramuh at him. He was also silently communing with Nathan, and wishing he could stay a little longer – beer, booze, women, fame, money, lack of people trying to murder you just for being associated with royalty – yeah, a guy could definitely get used to this. 

Prompto liked Toki and could relate to the child-like nature of his host body; they had much in common. Animals, video games, models of aircraft (even though what Toki worked on was nothing like the aircraft Prompto was familiar with), not to mention a brutal and lonely childhood – Toki, much like Prompto himself, often exhibited a warm and cheerful exterior to hide the small, scared child inside. At least Toki had parents, but Prompto reflected that maybe having no parents was better than having parents that were outright cold and abusive. That clown, though… Prompto admitted to himself that Dr. Rockzo was on the creepy side, even for a clown; and that was saying something. 

Offdensen genuinely liked and respected his spirit resident; he wished he had an army of Ignises around. He just wanted his body back with himself as the sole occupant. 

Nathan thought Gladio was a bit of a tyrant with his extensive exercise regimen, but Nathan could appreciate the results in himself. For one thing, it extended the time he could go between liver transplants; for another, it gave him new perspectives and topics for writing songs. “Battle Coeurl” had gone quadruple platinum overnight! Dick Knubbler had practically came in his boxers when he heard that, and Abigail…. Nathan smiled slightly at the memory of Abigail practically dragging him to the floor for that one. 

Toki was happy to have a new friend that liked the same things he did and could relate to a bad childhood. He felt sad at the prospect of losing Prompto, but he was excited to see if he would become a shamanistic bunny again. 

Skwisgaar Skwigelf was completely unaware that anything had changed with either the robot or his bandmates. He continued running scales and arpeggios on his custom Thunderhorse and gloating to himself over how superior it was to Toki’s Snow Falcon. He experienced mild disappointment when Toki didn’t play “Stops Copies Me” at the gear library, something Pickles called “sporting goods store, ya douchebag – and now my blood sugar’s low again.” 

Pickles was at a bit of a loss. He kind of wanted to have a spirit buddy to talk with, but at the same time he didn’t think he was ready for that kind of intimacy. He was actually pleased; he had been looking for a reason to go back down for another dose of Yopo, but it would have been awkward dropping in on his bandmate’s relatives without Nathan in tow. If he’s gonna die, might as well die high! 

Murderface napped, occasionally belching and scratching himself in awkward places in his sleep. He was looking forward to being a white tiger again; as a bass player he didn’t get a lot of respect, but as a tiger? Wow! No one would dare turn a tiger down in the mix, or have the lead guitar player (that damn Skwisgaar!) record new notes over a tiger’s bass leads! 

****

Both Offdensen and Ignis thought having hordes of Klokateers drag their boat over a mountain and through the jungle was a bit excessive, but not a single member of Dethklok showed any inclination of making the final trek under their own power. Gladio was fuming and silently berating Nathan for this lack of industry, and Prompto and Toki were too caught up in playing “I Spy” to pay attention. 

They knew they had reached their destination when they found themselves surrounded by spears, which were lowered as the Yaneemango tribe recognized the faces on the mountain. Offdensen found he was able communicate their issues to the shaman, having briefly studied the tribe’s language after the last time the band ran off to experience Yopo. The shaman had recognized quickly that there were foreign spirits residing within, and agreed to perform the Yopo ceremony to attempt to free them. 

****

“BOSS!” yelled a moogle to Carbuncle, “You gotta come here, Kupo! This realm where Noct’s entourage ended up is going to try to separate their souls, Kupo!” 

Carbuncle scurried to the moogle viewing device as fast as his four furry feet could carry him. “Quick! Patch me through to Bahamut!” The communication device crackled to life. “This had better be important,” came the deep voice over the speaker. “Sir! The primitives are going to try separating their souls from their bodies! Can you please lend your assistance?” 

In less than the time it took to blink an eye, Bahamut was in the control room. He didn’t feel there was anything he could do, but it would let the moogles feel as though everything was in order. He wondered for a moment if it was blasphemous on some level for an Astral to pray. 

****

The fires were lit, the chanting had begun. The shaman blew Yopo into the faces of Dethklok and their manager/CFO/legal advisor/High Holy Priest of the Church of the Black Klok. From their bodies rose the form of a hawk (Skwisgaar), white tiger (Murderface), octopus (Pickles)… and instead of an alligator and a rabbit from Nathan and Toki, there were the ghostly figures of a mountain of a man with long dark hair, glowing amber eyes, and chiseled abs; a fluffy-headed blond with eyes like a sunny afternoon and a smattering of freckles, and drifting over from Offdensen was the figure of a tall, lean man with glowing green eyes and medium brown hair; although they could see remnants of massive scarring around his eyes, he had the most beautiful smile and he gazed peacefully back. The three linked hands, slowly dissipating into small blue glowing orbs, then a sudden flash of light as –

****

The moogle crew, Carbuncle, and even Bahamut were whooping it up in the control room. It was a success! Souls retrieved and Bahamut made a mental note to add a paycheck bonus for all those involved. Even himself. 

****

The three Crownsguard found themselves abruptly in what looked like the throne room of the Citadel, before Niflheim attacked. Prompto was the first to recover, yelling “NOCT!!!!” as he barreled up the stairs and was met by a charging King Noctis, wrapping their arms around each other, swiftly followed by Ignis and Gladio. Tears were shed, and no one spoke – or could speak – for the longest time. There was no need. They were home. 


End file.
